by Cate Corvin
Turning slowly in place, I looked up at the man who’d captured me.
He was Gentry Fae. My breath caught in my throat; nobody had even considered that the Ghosthand might be Gentry. The idea was unthinkable.
And he was as handsome as his voice suggested. His hair and beard were thick and neat, the exact color of a raven’s wing, and eyes like sapphires gazed back at me suspiciously. His face was carved of harder lines than the usual angular planes of the Gentry Fae.
He wore black from head to toe, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms, but there was a small gold badge still pinned to his chest.
“Sisse. Potion. Now.” He cleared his throat, flicking a foul look at the pixie before turning his gaze back to me. He looked like he could eat me alive.
I heard her loud and clear behind me. “I’m not brewing shit, Robin. This is what we call a windfall.”
While Sisse was talking, I’d started trembling harder. Everyone in Avilion knew that badge and the crest on it, the upraised hand backed by a stylized sun and the wings of a swan.
This man was the Left Hand of the Queen.
The Garda answered to him. Unlike the Queen’s Right Hand, her guardian knight, the Left Hand made her problems disappear without a trace.
If he wanted to make me disappear, no one would even remember the name Briallen Appletree by next Tuesday.
Robin’s lips flattened as he looked me over, and Sisse flew across the room to land lightly on one of his broad shoulders. She left a glittering stream of pixie dust in her wake.
“Be reasonable, Robin. Since you refuse to attempt it, you need one of their kind.”
He waved an impatient hand. Sisse abruptly stopped talking, but she looked smug, like she’d won a debate, her spectacles glinting in my direction. I wrapped my arms around myself tighter.
I was not in a fine place to bargain for my life. All I had to my name right now was a bike, a cracked Dandelion+ that was three years out of date, and a pair of fake pixie wings.
But Robin’s expression had gone from annoyance to consideration, which didn’t bode well. Even if he wasn’t actually the Ghosthand Killer. Actually, I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t take the Ghosthand over the Queen’s Left Hand.
Sisse fluttered off his shoulder when he stepped forward, and I almost backed into the desk.
Robin cocked his head and grabbed my chin, gently but firmly, forcing my face up towards his.
Being so close to that sapphire stare was more than a little unnerving. He looked at me like he could pull all my secrets right out of my head, his gaze drifting from my messy bun to the freckles on my nose, and finally down to my mouth.
We were in such a strangely intimate pose that for a crazy moment I wondered if he was going to kiss me, but he just touched my lips with his thumb. His skin was warm against mine.
“Your lips are stained purple. You ate my faerie fruit.” It wasn’t a question. The evidence was right there on my face.
I nodded jerkily.
“How many?” he demanded, his voice soft but commanding.
He didn’t need to tell me that he’d see right through a lie. I saw it in the hardness of his eyes. “I ate six berries,” I said, entirely truthful.
He made a small noise of assent, still examining me intently. I caught a whiff of his cologne, mint and bergamot, before he released my chin. “What’s your name, dryad?”
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed that he’d let me go. “Briallen Appletree of Emain Ablach. I have a valid visa and ID… look, please, I swear by the trees I’ll never breathe a word to anyone for as long as I live if you just let me take the potion and go. I didn’t mean to eat the fruit or… or to see your chopped-up feet...”
Robin’s eyes glittered in amusement. “I didn’t mean for you to see my chopped-up feet either, but here we are. You stole six faerie fruits, Briallen Appletree.”
My throat closed up. “Stealing is a harsh word,” I said, my voice cracking.
“So I’ll make you a deal.”
I stopped myself from spilling into another torrent of babble as he rounded the desk. A deal? That wasn’t how this encounter was supposed to go.
He leaned down and opened a desk drawer, seeming supremely unconcerned that I might try to bolt again, and pulled out a shot glass and a decanter filled with a liquid that glowed jade green. “Six months of service to me, one month for every fruit you ate. I have need of… of a woman, and a dryad will do just fine for these purposes.”
“What do you mean, need of a woman?” I asked suspiciously. “I’m not sleeping with you, if that’s what you mean.”
Robin just stared at me, and I slowly turned red. “Sleeping with me is not one of the job requirements. When I say service, I mean spying. Tailing Fae on my orders. Capturing photographic or physical evidence. Breaking and entering, forgery, and thievery.”
“Oh, Blessed Branches,” I whispered. “I can’t… forgery? Thievery? I can’t do that!”
If I was caught, my visa to live and work in Avilion would be revoked by the Seelie Garda without a second thought.
If I was lucky, they’d at least allow me to portal back to Emain Ablach; if not, I’d be unlawfully stuck in Avilion. Worst case, I’d have to venture to Sobek Street and into the Undercity, hoping to find a way home through the Unseelie Court.
I was more likely to find my way to an unmarked grave in the Undercity.
Robin raised an arched eyebrow. “You had no problem stealing my fruit.”
I chewed my lower lip, cursing the damn fruit even as I was salivating for more. “What if I repay you for the fruit with money?”
“The only repayment I want will come in the form of your cooperation, time, and effort,” he said, his eyes boring into me. “If you’re worried about punishment, there’s no need to fear reprisal if you’re working on my orders.”
“What if I give you the berries back?” I asked, trying not to sound desperate.
The exasperated look was back on his face, but he wasn’t any less attractive for it. There was something very appealing in the way he rolled his eyes upwards, almost like he was a normal Lesser Fae. “Are you going to vomit them on my desk? No, thank you.”
I fell silent and thought of any way out of this. The only sound was the logs popping in the fireplace and the soft tinkle of Sisse’s wings as she fluttered back to Robin’s desk.
“What if I don’t agree to any of this?”
Robin’s smile was chilly. “You said you had a visa?” He gestured to the closed laptop on his desk. “It takes one sentence from me to have it permanently deleted from the system.”
The only way this day could’ve been any worse was if Queen Titania herself materialized in this strange office and revoked my visa personally.
There was no way out. I’d stolen from the Gentry, I’d seen the remains in his yard, and now I was going to pay for it.
“Let’s say I agree to work for you,” I said slowly, thinking it through. “Do I get compensation? It sounds like I’d be putting my life in danger with all this spying and stealing…”
Robin looked me over, from the Fairy Ferry shirt tied just under my bra, over my bare stomach, and finally to the sheer amount of leg my shorts showed off. His smile became warmer. “I’ll pay you just for having the balls to ask.”
“I want twice the hourly rate I get for Fairy Ferry,” I said quickly. “And dental. And weekends off.”
“Dental?” Robin gave me an incredulous look. “Your teeth are perfect. And I can’t agree to weekends, but I will give you two days off per week.”
He thought my teeth were perfect? How had he even seen them? I’d been too terrified to smile.
“And per diem!” I blurted out. If I was going to be working two jobs, someone was going to be financing my tart addiction and maybe a wardrobe update.
Robin laughed. It was the kind of sound that sent a shiver down my spine, and not the unpleasant kind. “And per diem. For all this, you
agree to the terms set? In six months, your debt for thievery will be repaid.”
I hesitated, but even during my bargaining, I hadn’t thought of any loopholes. There was no way out. Lesser Fae simply didn’t refuse the Gentry.
“I agree.” I stepped forward, almost bumping into the edge of his desk.
Robin unstoppered the decanter and poured a finger of the jade green liquid in the shot glass. He held it out to me, and when I took the glass, his finger brushed mine. He never looked away from my face.
“This is our binding agreement,” he said. “When you drink this, you swear loyalty to me. You will not be able to speak of my name, my appearance, or my plans to anyone considered my enemy. You will be held accountable for six months of service- in exchange for fair pay, dental, two weekdays off, and per diem.” The corner of his mouth twitched when he spoke, like he was trying not to laugh again.
It was my last chance for any concessions. “I want to know your full name, too. And if this Arrian guy has a good reason to be in pieces in your backyard.”
He finally smiled, his teeth white against the black of his beard. “Robin Goodfellow. Let’s just say that our late friend Arrian was plotting against our Queen’s life, and what he received was far kinder than what he deserved.”
I mulled it over for a moment, then took a deep breath and tossed back the shot. It tasted like spring, flavored with peppermint and newly blooming flowers, and as soon as it hit my stomach it spread through my abdomen with the same fire as the dwarven ale.
Sisse leaned against the decanter, laughing. “Perfection. Now we can get on with the plan.”
I slammed the shot glass on his desk. “Agreement bound. So, what’s my first job and when do I show up?” The sooner I got my six months out of the way, the better.
He picked up the shot glass and it vanished in his large hand. His eyes drifted across the Fairy Ferry logo on my shirt again. “You’ll report here every dusk when you’re finished with this courier nonsense. As for the job… have you ever heard of a honeypot?”
4
I fumbled the keys into the lock of my apartment door and walked into chaos.
Tarragon and Clove were sitting on the sagging couch, glaring at me with identical accusatory looks mingled with relief.
“Do you think you could call a selkie if you’re going to be back late?” Clove accused, standing up and pacing the living room in a way that told me he’d been doing it for several hours now. “Ghosthand Killer, Briallen. Killer. Tends to strike at night. We thought you might be dead in an alley somewhere.”
I just stared at them, the peppermint-and-spring taste of Robin’s jade potion still in my mouth. It was much later than I’d thought. “I was…”
My tired mind raced through my options. There was no way I could outright tell them I’d accepted an extorted job offer from the Seelie Queen’s fixer.
“I was running a late package for Numa,” I offered, the excuse sounding lame even to me. “And I needed to be alone. I broke up with Ioin.”
That did them in.
Both Clove and Tarragon exchanged loaded looks. I sighed and picked their skins up off the floor while they held a silent conversation with their eyeballs.
“Look, Bri… we wanted to talk to you about that.” Tarragon sounded uncharacteristically uncomfortable.
Clove was much more direct. “Ioin is a douche of the highest degree, and you’re better off without him. All he wanted to do was ogle the nymphs.” The look on his handsome face was contemptuous. “Humans aren’t worth your time. You deserve better than that, Bri.”
My mouth dropped open, an excuse already forming the way one always did. I shut it slowly, swallowing all those old excuses down.
I wasn’t even angry anymore, just tired and disappointed. “Right. Well, I’m going to get some sleep. With Spring Break coming up, we’re going to have a lot more courier deliveries with all the humans arriving.”
“Sure you don’t want to stay up and have a drink?” Tarragon held up a bottle of sapphire pixie wine.
I shook my head and slipped into my room, closing the door quietly behind me before I raised my hands and buried them in my hair.
I was working for Robin Goodfellow. The Queen’s Left fucking Hand.
Every part of me itched to burst back out there and scream the news, but if he was telling the truth— and I was sure he was— I wouldn’t be able to say a single word.
I got ready for bed, stripping off my stupid Fairy Ferry uniform and leaving it in a pile in the corner, and flopped across the pink blanket my mom had knit for me before I came to Avilion. It still smelled like apples, even after repeated washings.
I stared out the window overhead, my Dandelion+ lying face down on my chest. Usually Ioin would be texting me good night by now, but the phone remained silent.
It was a strange relief.
I closed my eyes, and the last thing I thought before I fell asleep was that Robin’s eyes were the exact same shade as the pixie wine.
Ioin might’ve wounded my pride, but there was no way he was keeping Web and Peaseblossom from me. He could find another bakery; I’d already staked my claim on this one.
Fortunately, there was no sign of him or his new sylph girlfriend.
I got there before the line was too long, but when I got to the counter, Sylvaine shrugged apologetically. “The same guy bought out all the tarts again. All I have is apple.”
What a jerk. Didn’t he understand the importance of a daily pastry? I was going to wither away to skin and bones at this rate.
I bought an apple toffee blondie and gave the white paper bag a dirty glare. “Apples,” I muttered, and without watching where I was going on my way back to my bike, I ran right into what I thought was a wall.
It wasn’t a wall. I found myself at eye level with a broad chest and shoulders.
“Is this how you normally interact with people?” a deep voice inquired. “Running into them, walking on their toes?”
I looked up into the garnet eyes of the Gentry Fae I’d stepped on yesterday.
It was so much worse than I thought.
He was beautiful, of course. All Gentry were beautiful, their features chiseled and sharp as glass, eyes so clear and deep you felt like you could fall right into them and never stop.
Dark tattoos of poisonous plants wound their way up his arms, and the red t-shirt was this close to giving out under the strain of his muscle mass. His caramel hair hung loose, drifting over his shoulders in a wavy mass.
But the worst thing was that he gave off a distinct aura. It was usually easy to pick out the Seelie Gentry: they gave off the aura of sunlight and green plants.
He was definitely Unseelie. This close, his aura had the distinct impression of moonlight and thorns. The Unseelie were far more unpredictable, and usually didn’t venture far from Sobek Street. The upperside of Avilion was too sunny for them.
“Um… no.” I inwardly winced at the stupidity of it. Great job, Briallen. You’re really demonstrating the sparkling wit of the Lesser Fae.
He smiled, showing sharp incisors. “Heard you hate apples, so I got us everything else.” The Unseelie Gentry held up a white bakery box, sending a whiff of rhubarb, blueberry, and brown sugar my way.
Usually, I would’ve run as fast as I could in the opposite direction, but my stomach was growling. And he was very, very pretty.
We sat on a low stone wall outside Web and Peaseblossom, and he balanced the box on his knees. He was wearing worn jeans, ripped holes at the knees, and heavy ass-kicking boots, a distinct difference from the usual denizens of Mothwing Falls, a haven for artists, bakers, and the humans who called themselves ‘hipsters’, whatever that meant.
“How did you know I hate apples?” I put a solid foot of distance between us, sitting with my legs crossed primly. It was hard to look prim in the Fairy Ferry uniform, but damn if I wasn’t going to aim high.
“Asked the girl in there.” He scooped out a blueberry tart and held it out t
o me on a napkin. “Briallen Appletree, is it?”
I nodded, taking the tart. The sugar crystals caught the morning sun and sparkled up at me. Sylvaine had probably spilled my entire life story to him. “What’s your name? It’s only fair if you know mine.”
The Gentry took a rhubarb scone from the box and popped it in his mouth whole. I realized I was staring and looked away, a faint blush rising to my cheeks.
It wasn’t fair that the Gentry could still look so beautiful even with an entire scone crammed in their face.
He chewed and swallowed. “Call me Gwyn. You look happier this morning.”
Gwyn. I tested out the name in my mind. I’d never heard of any Gwyns before, but then, that meant nothing. Robin had clearly demonstrated that to me yesterday. You didn’t need to know their names for them to be dangerous.
I picked at the tart and tore away a flaky piece, then the words just fell out of me. “My boyfriend broke up with me yesterday by making out with his new girlfriend in front of me. It was a really crap morning.”
I shoved the bit of tart in my mouth before I could say anything else, my blush mounting higher. A Gentry Fae wasn’t going to care about my problems, or my feelings, or anything else about me, really.
“His loss.” Gwyn picked up a tart and bit into it.
I snorted and took another bite of mine. “You don’t know me. Maybe I was a really terrible girlfriend.”
“Probably an awful one. Who wants to date a dryad who hates apples?” He glanced at me sidelong, dark lashes shielding his garnet eyes. “Good thing I like those dryads who prefer bananas.”
I choked on my tart, and he thumped my back.
“Okay there, Briallen Bananatree?” he asked, a crooked grin lighting up his face.
My eyes were watering. “I’m good. How do you know I don’t hate bananas, too?”
“Well, we could put it to the test.” He reached in the box and pulled out a muffin. “It was the last one. I’d really hate to eat it alone, but if you dislike them that much…”
Sylvaine made a killer banana walnut muffin. I twitched my fingers. “Hand it over. I get the first bite since I almost choked to death.”
